More Musings
by Chef Erica
Summary: Here is a continuation of 'Musings.' Some reveiwers expressed a wish to write one from Marguerite's perspective, so here you go. I hope you like it. Please R&R.


Marguerite sat on a warm rock soaking up the sun in the late evening light. It had been a boring day of studying Veronica's parent's journals and maps, trying to see if there was something they had missed in the past months. So far they had nothing to show for their efforts but paper cuts and the bruise on Ned's forehead from a falling book. Marguerite had received a nasty glare from everyone when she laughed, but she couldn't help herself, the man wasn't safe anywhere. At least she waited until he stood up rubbing his head and they all knew he was alright.  
  
It was a hot clear day on the Plateau, and the six occupants had decided to go to the watering hole for a swim after the fruitless day. Ned and Veronica were splashing each other in the shallow water while Summerlee and Challenger sat on a blanket arguing about the genus of a plant they had picked along the way.  
  
As she watched the couple flirt shamelessly she considered them. Veronica was a beautiful young woman with a strong will and a mean right hook. Not characteristics you normally found in a woman in this day and age. She had weaknesses though, like wanting to find her parents and willing to give up anything to do so, even stay on this God forsaken plateau. Admittedly, she had done the same thing when she took the medallion from Xhan, and Marguerite was paying everyday for it. She also hated the way perfect little Veronica constantly felt the need to point out every one of her faults. "As if I don't know that I have questionable morals. But they've kept me alive, why should I feel guilty about the decisions I've made over the years."  
  
Marguerite looked at Ned as he flung another armful of water at the blonde beauty. The pesky little brother in this ragtag group as far as she was concerned. He was nosy, always trying to get her to reveal bits of her past for his stories. When he was out she did have to take sneak peeks at his ever-present journals to make sure that he didn't say too much. She never made a show of it and was always discreet, not like the first time, but she would not get herself killed because of something he wrote. Unfortunately she was starting to like the prying pest.  
  
Challenger sat just beyond the splash zone on a blanket next to Summerlee's chair arguing about the flora in his hand. Marguerite wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about, botany wasn't her area of expertise, but what ever it was, both men thought they were right. Challenger was an easy man to figure out. He was a genius and he knew it, prideful to a fault. She had seduced many German men just like him in the name of England during the war, but he was learning, which she could safely say none of the Herrs did, half of them never knew she was the one who undermined their research, just being a woman.  
  
Summerlee on the other hand, he wasn't just smart, he was wise and caring, and try as she might to fight it, he was working his way into her heart, a heart that she thought no longer existed. He defended her when she was indefensible; he always had a kind word when all the others had for her was scorn. He seemed to understand her, and nobody understood her. She had even trusted him with some of her secrets. Summerlee had approached her one evening, saying he had something very important to discuss. They went onto the balcony together and he revealed to her that he knew whom she was during the war, that he had himself chosen her for the position of Interceptor after reviewing her success in the field. She was more shocked that his kind soul had anything to do with the war than anything else.  
  
Roxton suddenly caught her attention as he dove off of a high boulder. That man wasn't like anyone she had ever met before. Unlike Challenger and Summerlee, she couldn't quite label him. He was fine and upstanding, and an honorable man in many ways, someone she was sure was incapable of intentional betrayal, but she knew he had had his fair share of escapades in his life. At first he condemned her for what he perceived as personality flaws, but made no secret of the fact that he wanted her and planned on having her. She didn't mind, and played his little game. But lately he was less critical and more gentle, with fewer obscene comments and more concerned inquiries, which was unnerving. Sure he still threw out the occasional thinly veiled innuendo, but they were different now. She liked it better when she knew what he wanted. What made things worse was that she was starting to feel a sense of loyalty to him and the others in the Treehouse. She was hurt whenever they thought that she betrayed them in some way.  
  
Water splashed across her face, and with a shriek she jumped back from the offensive wave. "Wake up Marguerite," Roxton teased.  
  
"Watch what you're doing, Roxton," she warned, scooting away from the edge of the stone she was sitting on. Before she could escape he reached out and boldly grasped her bare ankle. She began to panic and struggle, "Let go, you Neanderthal."  
  
A sly grin spread across his face, and his grip remained strong. "Why don't you swim with us?"  
  
"I haven't got a bathing suit on."  
  
"I'm sure we could find an outfit like Veronica's for you to wear," he teased as he tugged on her leg. As she slipped down the rock her skirt rose on her legs, showing a fair bit of shapely calf.  
  
Grasping at slippery moss Marguerite glared back at him, "Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?"  
  
Letting his gaze rest on her now half displayed thigh he replied, "You have no idea." Then, without warning, he yanked hard on her leg.  
  
SPLASH!  
  
***  
  
Well, if I've entertained you even just a little bit with this story, I would really appreciate it if you would leave a little note to let me know what you think. I'll even accept a little constructive criticism, just be gentle.  
  
Erica ( 


End file.
